


Injuries

by artispain



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Blood and Injury, Breathplay, F/M, Graphic Description, Injury Recovery, Serious Injuries, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artispain/pseuds/artispain
Summary: Got a request for what it would be like to care for an injured Lord Frieza
Relationships: Frieza (Dragon Ball)/Reader
Comments: 64
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

There had been no explanation. You had woken to the sounds of explosions in the middle of the night. The city had been in flames. You gathered what supplies you could and fled.   
You ponder that night now, as you tread thru the underbrush, looking for food.   
2 weeks ago, you’re life had been so different. Preparing to graduate. To honor your family with the first medical doctor in the bloodline.   
Then the invasion had begun. Aliens had arrived. It had all been so fast. Some alien had decided that your planet now belonged to him.   
Of course, your world had fought back. And all for naught. Any government that didn’t immediately pacify…….. the results were swift and ruthless. Only 3 days into it….. that’s when you had fled. You’ve been eking out an existence in the mountainous wilderness to the west of the city.   
Your dinner is brief and frugal. You hadn’t found much. You’ll be sleeping hungry tonight. You are really just glad to be alive.   
The night is fire all around your little tent. Explosions and roaring and flames. You’re too frightened to even attempt to run. You merely huddle in your pathetic shelter and pray to your gods that your tent is spared.  
And it is.  
The next morning, all is quiet. Most of the woodland around you is spared. Damn. Whatever it was must have simply been LOUD and BRIGHT.   
You figure you’ll see the extent of whatever happened before you decide whether or not you’re going to pack up and head deeper into the mountains.   
It’s only a couple of miles of trudging before you see the devastation. Craters blown into the earth. The forest floor, once prickled with elderly trees, now smoldering ruination.   
“What on earth could possibly….” You choke on your own words. What on earth indeed.   
You nearly trip over it.   
Turning, having made the decision to pack your things and go, despite being tired and hungry, you very nearly trip over the body on the ground. You stumble and instead choose to literally fall near it on purpose. The ashy rocks bite into your palms. You land with your face directly across from it’s face, only mere inches away. It is curled on it’s side, in the fetal position. Its body inverted to yours.   
You freeze, huddled on the ground, waiting for this face…… this ALIEN face….. to move. But it doesn’t.   
Its face is……. Not like any face you’ve ever seen before. Neither feminine nor masculine. Smooth. White as the purest snow, albeit smudged with soot. Its entire body appears to be this color.   
Its eyes are closed. But you can see that they’re quite large, set above a small piquant nose. Its lips are very dark and slightly parted, revealing perfectly even teeth, which are a stark contrast to the blood stains around its mouth. But this isn’t what keeps you motionless.   
All this observation takes a few milliseconds on your part. At least until your eyes flit to the dome of its head. It’s…… its crystalline. Like the smoothest polished amethyst you’ve ever seen. The light of the morning sun sparks flames upon its surface. And portals of inferno within its depths. As if, if you looked HARD enough, you could see galaxies being born there.  
You consider this for some time. Just looking at this being before you, your body very still. You watch a fly land upon its nose. And feel sudden irritation. Impulsively, you reach up to shoo it away.  
The being inhales sharply, a reaction to its tickled nose.  
Your body jerks before you go still again. Waiting. It doesn’t move anymore. But you can see that its breathing.   
You slowly raise to your feet. It must be one of those aliens. Those things that were trying to take your world. You need to go. You need to run.   
But you can’t.  
Its hurt. Badly. You’ve taken an oath. You cant leave it here. It could die. You gaze down upon it, observing the rest of it’s unconscious form.   
It looks so small and helpless. Graceful, even in unconsciousness. It’s arms limp, yet still curved around it’s knees. As if it is protecting it’s abdomen with its slender hands. Its limbs are smooth and well defined in musculature. It’s toned legs ending in 3 strong looking toes on each foot. Your eyes brighten when you notice it’s long tail stretched out behind it, curving slightly back towards its head. You notice matching flashes of amethyst light upon its shoulders and fore arms. Upon it’s shins. You even catch a dark glint of the same between its arms upon its chest. Its……. Its really quite pretty.   
Well. It cant be helped. You’re average in build. But this creature appears smaller. You figure you can probably carry it.   
You reach down and slide your arms beneath its knees and shoulders, before lifting it to your chest, cradling it much as one would cradle a child. Its surprisingly light. And COLD. Its body is frigid. And its skin, tho appearing smooth to your eyes, is delicately patterned. As if its scaled. There is the faintest luminosity to its skin, even thru the soot you can see this.   
The arm closest to you curls into it’s chest. The arm furthest dangles limply at first. As does its tail. You turn to return to your tent. You can hear its tail dragging thru the rubble as you walk. It isn’t long before you’re walking upon the softer detritus of the undamaged forest floor beyond the blast zone.   
A shuddering movement within your arms causes you to still your walking. You look down upon it. Its slowly moving. Curling its dangling arm to its chest along with the other. Nuzzling its face into your chest, as if seeking your heat. You can see its feet curling and relaxing and curling again. You hear a swishing as its tail wraps around both you and this thing. As if its clinging to you. You feel yourself soften at this helpless little thing.   
You continue on to your camp.  
As you set the being down on the flattest area of soil near your camp fire, you feel yourself already sinking into the quiet assessment of the medical professional you’d hoped to one day become. Its breathing. Airway good. So this means it must have a pulse. Cant breathe without a pulse right? At least a HUMAN couldn’t. Your critical gaze assesses for abnormalities and injuries.   
You find a deep gash, accompanied by swelling, on the side of its head, just underneath the crystalline formation in its skull. You surmise that this is why its unconscious. There’s also several deep wounds along its chest, making the large purple marking here appear as a precious stone set in a ring of wounded flesh. These are the two most serious wounds, other than the blood around its mouth. At least, until you notice its legs. One is nimble looking and lean. The other has an extra joint which you know doesn’t belong. It’s right shin bends at an unnatural angle just below its knee. The swelling makes it look obscene.   
You rummage thru your pack, finding gauze and antiseptic, cleaning as best as you can. It winces restlessly as you pat the wound on its head. Even with all your training, this still makes you feel badly. As if you’re torturing it.   
You glance nervously down. Now for that leg.   
You find 2 sticks, strong and sure, to use as splints. You have no idea how this thing’s bone structure will deal with a break. But you DO know it’s leg is broken.   
The sounds it makes as you pull its leg and apply the splints are heart breaking. But you know it must be done. As you tie them secure, you suddenly feel a sharp pain and the world spins around you.   
Even as you land in the brush several feet away, you still are not sure exactly what happened. You look up in time to see the being groan and shift, the toes on its splinted leg flexing spasmodically.  
Self defense. It’d struck out in self defense. You can see 3 thick lines already swelling into purple bruises on your fore arm. It must have grabbed you with its other foot. And thrown you? It seemed too small to be so strong.   
You flex your wrist. Nothing broken on you. At least for now. You decide that maybe the being needs to be cleaned. To be frank, you do as well. But patients always come first. You’d scouted the area already, and make your way to a nearby stream for water.   
You bathe it gently, starting at his poor bruised head.   
His. The sounds it had made when you’d splinted it’s leg. Raspy and agonized. But it’d had a masculine inflection. Not too deep. And it’s body structure lacks female OR male structures, at least in any way that you understand these things. It does have well defined masculine slender musculature. You know this doesn’t truly indicate gender. But you cant help but be swayed by your own biological reasoning into thinking of this being as a male.  
You clean the grime from his delicately structured face then, as gently as possible, you clean around the bandaged wound. He winces. You pause. But he doesn’t awaken.   
The light from the afternoon sun glints off the top of his head, like violet flame. You gaze at it for a moment before forcing yourself to focus on what you’re supposed to be doing.   
You clean the rest of him as good as you can with the scrap of cloth and the steadily darkening container of water. After he’s more or less clean, you carry him, gently supporting his leg, into the tent and settle him in your own cot. Then you attempt to find more food. You have emergency food in your pack. Granola bars and peanut butter. But you figure he’ll need food when he awakens. So you ignore your own hunger and search elsewhere instead.   
You come up pathetically short handed. Some berries. And not many. You’re going to have to sneak back into the city if you cant find more. You watch his chest rise and fall as you eat them.  
Even in the dimness of the tent, murky with the fading light of the setting sun, those purple jewel like areas still glimmer. Yes. He’s pretty to look at alright.   
The berries stick in your mouth as he shifts. Groans. The toes of his splinted leg flex and spread, then flex again. Yet, he still doesn’t awaken. You feel badly. You have Tylenol in your pack. But he cant swallow those if he’s not conscious.   
You rise to your feet gingerly and approach him, clenching your blanket in your hands. You’re careful to not bump his leg as you spread the blanket over his body. You roll a towel and gently pick his head up to place it beneath. Your palm brushes the hard purple surface of his head and you gasp. It feels hard and chill. Like a quartz crystal.   
On impulse, you reach down and touch his cheek. The skin is cool, as you already know, but this time you let your fingers rest for a few moments, curiosity getting the better of you. Smoothly patterned. Like scales so tiny that you cant actually see them. Soft. Yet tough. Something hit this guy HARD.   
His nostrils flare and you jerk your hand away. You stumble over your pack in your haste to back away. Still, he remains unconscious.  
You’re thoughtful as you arrange your pack into a semblance of a pillow upon the floor of the tent and curl with your hands around your knees. You’ll need food. He’ll need more than granola bars.  
You can barely see his outline in the shadows of the dying fire outside your tent. And the delicate shimmer of those purple spots. You fall asleep to the steady sound of his breathing.  
\--------------------------  
A snuffling sound disturbs you. You’ve rolled during the night. The harsh sunlight thru the tent wall stings your eyes. Your whole body aches from sleeping on the rocky ground.   
More snuffling. Then a deep bass growl. You sit upright, suddenly.   
The first thing you see is him.   
Sitting upright, his splinted leg stretched before him, and his toes exposed at the end of your blanket, he's very much awake. His arms are crossed primly.   
But it’s his face that holds your rapt attention. It’s wearing the most annoyed expression you’ve ever seen in your life. His pupils are the most intense shade of crimson. And his gaze smolders with rage.   
But it’s not you he’s looking at.   
The snuffling again. You turn. And whimper.  
There, not 2 feet away, so close that you could reach out and pat it’s slavering maw, is the massive profile of an adult grizzly bear.


	2. Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yup. He don't remember shit.

Everything within your body is utterly frozen. Your blood. Your marrow. Your fingers are leaden and tingly as the nails bloody your palms. You’ve never been this close to a bear. And it’s muzzle alone is nearly as long as your fore arm. It’d take several copies of you to fill the circumference of its mammoth neck. It’s so close, the gamey wild smell of it brings terrified bile up your throat.   
It isn’t looking at you. It’s looking at him. And somehow you’re thankful for this. You summon some ghostly remnant of courage and turn to look at him as well.   
He hasn’t moved one iota. But the rage in his eyes has dimmed to something akin to disgust. As if the bear were some particularly grotesque insect.   
His leg!! He cant move because of his leg! Your mind flickers with the possibility of escape. After all. The bear appears to be focused on him. This is immediately followed by guilt. Shame burns in your tummy. You aren’t like his people. His life matters just as much as yours does. But everything is happening so fast. Maybe if you hit the bear and run……..  
It would be suicide. And the bear could simply return to finish him off after it’s done with you. You feel the first insipid tickles of despair.   
He moves. Slowly. Every action as smooth and calculated as you’d imagined it’d be. The leg nearest you, his left leg, his good leg, slides from your cot, knee bending, to rest his foot upon the floor of your tent. He rotates the upper half of his body to face the bear. His back straightens. His left arm straightens and rises, in a slow blatant display of liquid grace, as his hand balls into a fist. He extends his pointer finger. His mouth creases into an angelic and confident grin which is directly negated by the evil crease of his large eyes. His tail curls behind his body like that of a scorpion.  
The entire atmosphere around you begins to change. The hair on your arms prickles with static electricity. Your vision hazes. Your ears pop. You smell a scent that reminds you of when you were a child and lightning had struck a tree near you. Acrid. A metallic bloody taste saturates your tongue. Something is happening. You can feel it. It’s as if the very earth around you is erupting with power.   
The bear can feel it too, apparently. It gives a frightened grunt and pulls its maw from your tent. You can hear brush crackling as it thunders away.   
The thing on your bed. The alien. He hasn’t moved. But something is different. The air doesn’t taste wrong anymore. Whatever you had been feeling is gone.   
His pupils flick to you now and you startle. In a smooth movement, he rotates his body, without moving or bending his arm, to aim that same finger at you. It reminds you of someone aiming a gun.  
That same prickling feeling returns. But ceases again just as fast.  
He’s wavering. His muscle structure trembles as his arm finally drops. He raises a hand to the bandage upon the side of his head and his body sways as if he’s dizzy before he falls back onto an elbow. His good foot is still on the floor of your tent. Whatever he has just done, with that odd change of energy in the air, seems to have taxed him greatly.  
His voice is a shock to your system. Male. Higher pitched. Bored. Each consonant enunciated in a careful and precise way.   
“Who are you?”  
Your voice trembles and cracks, but you manage to answer.  
“(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).”   
A look of pain ghosts over his face and his pupils dilate as an elbow leaves the bed to place this hand upon his face to touch the bandage on his head.   
“Well, (Y/N), I’m afraid you have the advantage here. I cannot seem to remember my own name.”   
Doesn’t remember? Amnesia? From the head wound?  
He reaches up and begins to peel away the bandage from his head.   
“Oh no! Don’t take that off! If you get dirt in that wound, you could get an infection!” You scramble to your feet and hurry over to him.   
He huffs and finishes removing his bandage, then reaches down to start pulling the bandages from his chest, before tossing them all carelessly upon the floor of your tent. He then returns those unsettling eyes to yours. Vermillion pupils assess you as if you are an errant child.   
You are still for some time. Then feel shock as you finally become brave and look him over.   
The wounds on his chest are completely gone. You lean, trying to look at his head, but he rotates it to follow your movements.  
“Your head, sir. I need to see that wound.” You try, and fail, to sound authoritative.   
He flops his free arm back to lean upon it as he is the other and looks at you as if he’s the neighborhood watch and you are the fresh pile of dog shit which he’s just stepped in. But he complies.   
You cant believe what you’re seeing. The wound, which had been a deep ugly gash yesterday, is now a large scab which is well along in healing. There’s only a little swelling.   
“Impossible.” You breathe.   
You look down upon his leg. It’s still quite swollen. You insert your finger into the splinting, checking to make sure it’s not too tight. He hisses at this.  
“You’re a bold one. Touching me without my consent.”  
You feel a slight flare of annoyance but quickly subdue it. “I’m just checking your splinting. Making sure it’s not too tight.”  
“I’m perfectly aware of this. You are still alive, aren’t you?” He’s glaring at you.   
“Look. I’m just trying to help you, okay?” You try as hard as you can to subdue your ire. “Are you hungry?”   
He doesn’t answer. Just that same unsettling gaze.  
“I don’t have a lot.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “But I do have some granola bars. And some peanut butter.”  
“This place is filthy.” It’s like he hadn’t even heard what you’d said.   
“Well, your people kind of fucked that to be honest.” You simply couldn’t quite maintain your bedside manner. “It’s just you. And me. This piece of shit tent. And some peanut butter. Now are you hungry, or not?”  
“My people?” His face looks confused for a moment before looking irritated. “Am I your hostage? Is this truly how you house your hostages?” You don’t know why he’s being so hateful. You certainly don’t deserve it.   
“Like I said, buster. You. Me. Tent. Peanut Butter.” You realize the heinous quality of your own statement and blush, stammering. “N-no. You’re not a hostage. You can leave any damn time.” He doesn’t seem to care.   
“Very well, maggot. Feed me.”  
You glare at him for a moment. But you comply.   
He takes one bite of a granola bar and his eyes widen as he looks at it and chews slowly before glaring at you.  
“Passable.”  
Your own stomach growls and you figure you’d better go try to find something for yourself.   
“Where do you think you’re going?” He’s not pleased.   
“I’m hungry too. And since you get the easy food, I’ll just have to go find something else.” You truly don’t mean to sound so bitchy. Not even with his attitude. But you’re hungry.   
He studies you as he munches his granola bar, still very much propped on one elbow. And, despite your need to find food, you can’t help but watch. He hasn’t blinked. Not once. And he eats very carefully, the bar pinched between his slender forefinger and thumb. After he’s finished, he continues eye contact as he primly brushes his fingers upon your blanket.   
After several more minutes of looking at you, he relaxes into your cot as his eyes close, the foot upon the floor of your tent slowly sliding back under your blanket. His voice sounds tired.  
“Very well. Run along.”  
This raises fresh ire, but you do not answer.   
Your hunt is more fruitful today. Literally. A tree sagging with apples. It had taken hours to find it.  
You eat till you feel almost sick. Then gather as many apples as you can in a knapsack.  
You stop at a stream to fill your canteen. You’ll have to boil the water. But luckily you have some already at the camp which has been treated. You know that apples are a diuretic. But you had just been too hungry to care.   
The sun is very low when you get back to the camp. He appears to be asleep. You are almost surprised he’s still there.   
The breeze feels a little cooler today, so you stoke up the fire and boil that water.   
You offer him some of the water you had already treated because it’s not hot. He seems very tired. Almost contrite, as he props himself on an elbow again and drinks it. Just as slowly as he’d eaten. And staring at you just the same.   
“Thank you, (Y/N).”   
You hadn’t expected this. Not in a tone so much softer than his earlier voice.   
“You’re welcome……. Whoever you are.”   
He seems amused by this, chuckles lightly. Allows you to take his cup and once again settles into repose, his eyes falling closed.   
It’s now, quite dark. And quite chilly. You sigh and adjust your pack on the floor again, prepared to curl up just as you had the previous evening.   
You’re going to have to move. The camp and him. But you’ll worry about that tomorrow. He seems to be healing quite fast. Maybe you’ll be ABLE to move him.   
“It’s cold, (Y/N).” You openly startle at his voice. You can see that same purple flickering upon the top of his head as the night before. And his pupils glow like rubies in the darkness. He laughs at your jerking movement.  
“Ohohoho! You needn’t be afraid. There is no monster on this globe which is more dangerous than myself. And the safest place to hide from a monster is, of course, behind a bigger monster.” He’s laughing at you. And although the words seem to be intended to comfort, you can’t help but be unsettled by them.  
“So……….. you remember who you are now? Your name?” Your voice is trembling.  
He laughs again.  
“Not at all! I just know that I’m a monster.” You can hear the smugness, thick as cotton, in the darkness.  
“Oh…… well…….. ok……..” you feel a little scared.   
He repeats himself.  
“It’s cold.”  
“I don’t have any more blankets. I’m sorry.” You feel badly. You’ll be colder. But he’s injured and cannot help himself. Even if he IS kind of an asshole.   
His chuckle almost sounds more like a growl in the darkness.  
“Oh I wasn’t concerned about myself.”  
At first, you prepare to deny him, thinking that he’s about to offer you the only blanket. But this is not the case.   
“There’s plenty of room under here, (Y/N). Unless…….. you are too frightened of me?” His amusement is palpable.   
You blush madly. The offer is innocent enough, but the TONE of his voice…. The sinister predatory quality…… is enough to make your thoughts shift to frightening things.   
“No….. no thank you. I mean….. thank you but…… n-n-no thank you.” You flop down on your pack. Curling away from him.   
He sounds almost annoyed. And bored.  
“Very well. Suit yourself. Squander my generosity. I’ll not make this offer again.” And he finally falls silent.  
And the ground is already cold and uncomfortable under the floor of the tent. You’re already shivering. You hug your knees. Try to adjust yourself.   
“If you’re going to shuffle and move all night, please take it outside. I can’t rest with all your racket.”  
You nearly snap. Sitting bolt upright, you turn to him, doing your best to keep a scathing reply from issuing forth. But your retort dies as you realize that you can see his perfect glimmering teeth in the darkness. The bastard is laughing silently at you.   
“That does it!” You fumble at your boots, untying them and kicking them off your feet. You stand, hugging yourself with your arms, still shivering. And as you march towards your cot, your bravado goes cold.   
He isn’t laughing at you anymore. His tail is protruding from the blanket, the tip flicking and undulating. His hands are behind his head. And he’s staring at you intently, his eyes a pair of hot coals. You can just barely see his dark lips in the firelight. They’re sneering.   
“What do you think you’re doing, simian?”  
“You said I could share…..” You are simply too nervous to continue.   
“I did, indeed. And you refused me. If you are wanting under here now, you must ask me quite nicely.” His voice is icy.   
This doesn’t make you as angry as it should. Anger isn’t nearly as easy to conjure now that you are standing here, looking down into those flaming eyes, seeing that assessing intelligent gaze. You briefly consider sleeping outside.   
“Well?” He snaps. “I have dreams to attend to, (Y/N). Have you anything to ask me?” His tone is patronizing now.   
“Can I…….” You are now glad of the darkness. Maybe he can’t see how badly you’re blushing. “Can I share?”  
“Share what?” he’s being deliberately dense.   
You can hardly talk and your face burns as you splutter.  
“Can I sleep with you please? You’re right. Its cold.”   
“I suppose. But you’ll be removing those garments first. They’re filthy.”  
You feel a little part of yourself die from embarrassment. But you kick off your thick jeans to stand before him in your shirt and underwear.   
“That’s better.” His voice sounds smug as his tail raises, effectively pulling the blanket back, then pats the cot 3 times. Slowly.   
You walk towards him. And you’re trembling as you crawl onto the cot with him.


	3. Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just touch the damn lizard. Sorry it takes me a million years to shit these out lol

The cot creaks and shifts as you try to lay next to him as gently as possible on your side facing him. He’s not that large, but the cot isn’t either, and as you relax, the middle of the thing sinks, causing your body to drift along the side of him.   
His leg is very cool on your leg. His tail flicks the cover over you sloppily. You shiver and reach down to adjust this blanket more smoothly, trying to be discreet about moving your leg away from his. But your movement just makes the cot sag more and you slide even closer. He chuckles amiably.  
“I’ll not scald you, (Y/N). In fact…..” His tail slips between the cover and your shirt to press you into his body. It’s cold enough to be felt even thru the fabric of your shirt. “…… Get over here. Your body heat is pleasant.”   
You place your palms together and slip your hands under your cheek, just looking at his darkened profile. His hands are still behind his head. Your face is practically in his armpit. If he were a sweaty human, you’d probably be able to smell it. As it is, you can smell him, but it’s not body odor. At least, not human body odor. The smell reminds you of that time your biology instructor had allowed you to hold the boa from the classroom terrarium. Reptilian. Only sweeter. Almost too sweet.   
His eyes are closed. There’s just enough dim firelight that you can see the side of his mouth twisted in a smirk.   
Your eyes wander up to look at the crystal that seems to just be his cranium. And it’s really pretty right now, the firelight casts orange fairy like flashes in it’s amethyst depths. Like angels among galaxies. Very beautiful.   
These little flecks shift as his face turns and those burning red pupils are exposed as his large eyes open. The smirk is still affixed to his mouth and it belies the irritation in his voice.  
“Are you going to sleep? Or just look at me all night?”  
“Both.” Your own voice is tart and you blush at being had.   
His smirk morphs into a full on closed lipped grin as one of his smooth brows raises.  
“Oh? And here I was, assuming that you were cold and tired. Shame on me.” The sarcasm is thick.   
You don’t say anything. Just squeeze your eyes shut and try to sleep.   
Eventually, your body heat pools under the blanket. And it’s the undoing of your consciousness as you gradually fall into dreams.  
………………………………………..  
It’s some bird that wakes you up this morning. A gentle rhythmic tweeting that is just harsh enough to gradually rouse you from slumber.   
The first thing you register as your eyes open is his sleeping face. Pointed skyward, his face looks as innocent as when you’d scraped him off the charred remains of the forest floor 2 days ago.   
The low cool toned light of pre dawn thru the walls of your tent casts blue flickers on that purple cranium. He’s really very pretty.   
You’ve got a fairly silly sleepy smile on your face as you realize the exact nature of your body placement.   
You can feel the cold hardness of that purple spot on his shoulder upon your cheek. You’re so fucking close that when your gaze travels down, you can see the definition of the musculature and venous structures of his neck.   
Your arm is draped over his chest, your fingertips pressed into that purple stone like spot on his chest. And, most shameful of all, your leg is across his body, the flesh of your thigh almost directly over his groin.   
You are literal stone. Cannot move. Cannot even breathe.   
Fuckshitfuckshit.   
You’re pretty sure that, should you try to extricate yourself from him, you’ll wake him. So you just lay like this.   
He hasn’t moved one iota. Is still in the exact position as the previous evening. Arms still crossed behind his head. The only notable difference is that his tail is completely wrapped around your abdomen. Twice. And absolutely under your shirt. The strange texture of it doesn’t feel as cold as it had the night before. Perhaps your body heat really DOES help.   
After a time, you finally move. But just your head. You look down at the hand on his chest. You watch your own fingertips curl and press into that icy purple spot.   
“Just touch me, (Y/N). I grow weary of your hesitation.”  
You nearly jump entirely out of your skin.  
His eyes remain closed. Face relaxed, save a the barest hints of a smirk, which you can barely see out of the corner of your eye.   
“No…… no that’s okay. Really, I should get up and check your wounds.”   
You sit up, remove your hand from him. But you don’t get far.   
His tail constricts slightly underneath your shirt. An uncomfortable warning. He still hasn’t moved. But his mouth twists into a sneer.   
“My injuries will wait. I’m getting rather tired of your impulsive tendency to ignore my good will.”  
One hand leaves his cranium and, upon the movement, you notice that the wound upon his head has completely vanished. Geez…… this guy heals FAST. And his eyes are still closed.  
This hand slowly reaches for your arm. The movement is easy to predict. Purposeful. You know just what he’s going to do. And you do nothing to stop him.   
His cool fingers wrap around your wrist and pull your hand, just as slowly……. Almost inexorably……… grip as firm as a vice, back to that icy purple spot on his chest. And he holds it there.   
His eyes finally open, and he gazes at you. His face is unreadable for a moment before he grins at you impishly.   
“There. Look at that! Your hand is still intact.” Mirthful chuckles. You blush and scowl at him. But his eyes almost twinkle with his merriment at your discomfort before he continues.  
“Now. Satisfy your infernal curiosity so that we can get along with this day.” His fingers gradually loosen their grip. As if he’s waiting for you to yank your hand from him.   
You don’t. And so his hand returns to its twin to cradle his head.   
It is strange. Such unmitigated access to an alien being. You simply rest your hand upon him. It’s not like you haven’t touched him. You’d cleaned him up that very first day. But, other than a curious touch to his face, that had been very business like. Just cleaning up an injured beast.   
But this beast is very much conscious now. Very much awake. And very much aware of every movement you’re making.   
You sit up straighter and place your other hand upon his belly. It quivers slightly under your touch before relaxing. Instinctive. But he remains motionless.   
You run your palms along his abdomen. His skin is cool along his belly, but warm where your leg had been laying a few minutes ago. You notice his large toes flexing at the bottom of the makeshift brace sticking out of the cover.   
Your hands reach the blanket, bunched at his hips. You blush and run them quickly back up to his chest. He chuckles again but doesn’t speak.   
You can feel the delicate texture of his skin. Can see the luminescence even in the low light, shifting around your fingers as you prod now into his pectorals around that amethyst splotch. He’s really very muscular for such a slender thing. You can feel the firm flesh underneath that skin.   
Your focusing so hard on this as your fingertips trail up to his neck that you don’t notice how intense his gaze is upon you. At least, not until you think about touching his face, until you look. You hesitate. He says nothing.   
You pull your hands away and, so fast that you never actually SEE him move, his fingers are, once again, wrapped around your wrist. But, oddly enough, you’re not startled at all.   
You hand is frozen mid air, his grip a pale manacle. You look at it. Notice how glossy his nails are. Like obsidian. And bring your other hand up to trace the delicate looking bone structure of this hand around your wrist.   
He then pulls again, just as slowly. But this time he does not pull your hand to his chest. It is the same as before. You know exactly what he’s going to do. And just as the last time, you do not resist as he presses your palm to his jaw. His crimson eyes study you. Your mind conjures a momentary hysterical image of a child patting a dragon. You suppose that this is just what you are.  
His hand continues to hold yours to his face. And you bring your other hand up to match this touch on the other side. And there you are. Cupping the face of an alien. His lips are a thin line as he speaks.  
“Your hands are warm. Your touch is pleasant. You have the hands of a true healer.”  
You rub your thumbs along the corners of his dark lips. You can feel the tendons of his face move as he speaks again.  
“I cannot recall, but I feel as if this is something I would not normally allow anyone to do.” He smirks again. “Do you feel honored, (Y/N)? You SHOULD feel so.”  
Your face is relaxed and smooth with awe. This is all just so surreal. Maybe you’re still asleep? Well….. if this is a dream…..  
“Yes. I think I am.” Your words are a dry croak. His smirk deepens.  
“Well, if that curiosity is quite satisfied, I think I am ready to allow you to examine…….”  
He doesn’t get a chance to finish as you throw caution to the wind, lean forward, and kiss him.


	4. A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for some breath play

His entire body stiffens. No longer relaxed and languid, it becomes as rigid as stone. All but his face.   
Your kiss is chaste. Closed lips pressed to his. But you feel his own lips pull back. Feel the cool moisture of his naked teeth against your soft skin. He’s bared his teeth.   
His hand leaves your wrist and you feel these fingers, now icy and brutal, grip your jaw, almost crushing, painful. He wrenches your face from his. His voice is deadly calm.   
“Just what do you think you are doing, (Y/N)? Hmmm?”   
It hurts to move your jaw, but you are oddly unafraid.   
“Satisfying my curiosity.”   
His face is the very picture of put upon rage. His mouth is wrenched in a silent snarl. His brows are creased heavily. And a vein pulses just beneath that pale skin at his temple. And his retort is rapid fire, but still that same inhuman calm.  
“Fascinating. Not a few moments ago, you reeked of fear at the very idea of touching me. And now, suddenly, you’re brave enough to……… what is this act that you have perpetrated upon me?”  
Your eyes go wide.  
“It’s…….. a kiss……… surely you know what a kiss is??”  
NOW his voice is angry.   
“Of COURSE I don’t know what a kiss is, you hateful wretch! And I am not as you! I have no memories other than superficial ones. Why have you done this act upon me?”  
You suddenly feel awful. Very guilty. He has amnesia. He is hurt. He is your PATIENT. And here you are kissing him. Even if he HAD insisted that you touch him, he had not asked for this particular action.   
“I’m…….. I’m sorry. Really, I am. Just….” The pressure on your jaw becomes unbearable as his grip tightens.   
“I gifted you with the honor of touching me……..” His voice has returned to that unnerving calm. “And you invade my personal space in this way?” His other hand now reaches up to trace it’s pointer finger around your lips. His face relaxes and his gaze travels also to your mouth.   
“I ought to kill you.”  
You feel the first tickles of fear in your stomach as his mouth creases into a smirk. He muses aloud.  
“I suppose I WAS forceful.” His grip relaxes slightly, still firm, but no longer painful. And his gaze upon your lips becomes thoughtful.   
“How did I come to be here? What happened to me?”  
You try to answer as truthfully as you can.  
“I’m not…… sure what happened to you. But I found you. And I brought you here.”  
“And treated me?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why? Why did you bring me here? Why did you treat me?”  
You don’t answer. His thumb twitches on the skin of your jaw.  
“I’ll warn you once. Only once.” He continues to trace your lips. “I cannot recall my own name. But I know that I’m not the kind to be patient with dawdling or with lies…… you are aware that I’m quite capable of killing you, yes?”  
“I’m……. I’m aware, yes.” Your voice wavers as you remember the metallic taste as he’d stared down that bear. SOMETHING had been about to happen. You’re sure of it. He’s not lying to you.   
“Good. That’s very good. You’re dangerously impulsive, but not stupid. Now…….. I’m almost certain I’m up to no good being here. So WHY are you helping me, (Y/N)?”  
“I must.”  
“You must? Explain, simian.”   
“Before you guys came here……. I was gonna be a doctor. A healer. I couldn’t…… I couldn’t just LEAVE you. You were hurt.” You’re feeling more and more stupid as you speak. Hearing your own reasoning, spoken in your own words, in your own voice….. it sounds very STUPID. Saving a damn alien whom is part of a group of aliens hell bent on usurping your world is probably the DUMBEST thing you’ve ever done.  
His mouth now curls into a wicked toothy smile as he speaks.   
“You primates and your idiotic predispositions to doing the right thing…….. still…….. I suppose I’m not being very grateful now, am i?”   
He’s almost frighteningly calm now. Downright good natured. And just watching such a rapid play of different emotions on his face in under 2 minutes is…… terrifying.  
He’s still gripping your jaw. And focusing an intense stare at your lips as that finger stops tracing to tap your bottom lip. Just feather light touches.  
Tap.  
Your heart is tripping all over itself.  
Tap.  
“I should probably look at your leg, now.”  
“I imagine you should.” That grin becomes downright predatory. His hands don’t move.  
Tap.  
“I’m really very sorry. About the kiss, I mean…..”  
His grip on your jaw changes angle, his finger tips pressing into your cheeks, making your lips purse. At the same time, that other finger slips between your lips to trace your front teeth.   
“You look like a fish.” He looks suddenly playful. Amused.   
“What are you doing?” Your words sound odd with the way he’s smooshing your cheeks.  
His voice is quite bored compared to the impish grin on his face.  
“Your curiosity has had it’s fill of satisfaction, (Y/N). I’m afraid you’re going to sate MINE, now.”  
The cold lump of lead filling your belly is in direct war with the electric butterflies around it.  
“Oh?? And….. and how am I gonna do that?”  
There is no real warning before he squeezes your cheeks hard enough to press the flesh of them between your teeth, forcing your mouth open. At the same time that pointer finger, as well as his middle finger, thrusts back into your throat. The knuckles at the top of his hand are scraped uselessly by your teeth. Your throat spasms around these cool digits.   
You instinctively try to pull away. You can’t breathe this way. But your face is effectively bridled by that splayed hand whose fingers dig into your cheeks, not inherently harming, but utterly ruthless.   
You reach up, grasping the wrist of the hand at your face. Your nails scrape uselessly along this gauntleted amethyst here. You are unable to make any sound other than wet gagging.   
His smile fades, replaced by a look far more terrifying than any he’s previously given you. He tilts his head. He doesn’t look angry. He looks curious….. and starving.   
“Now THAT is a pretty blush…..”  
He scissors those two fingers. And now your body is physically trying to expel them. Grunting coughs around his fingers. Drool pools out of your mouth and down his wrist. He doesn’t seem to care about this.  
“Not trying to bite, then? I’m impressed. But I’d advise you to calm your flailing. This tissue feels very delicate.” His voice is almost clinical now.   
You attempt to obey him. And are successful in terms of no longer trying to wrench your body away from him. But your chest and back continue to heave, your gagging continues unabated. You cannot help this natural response.   
And your lungs are beginning to burn. To scream for air. Tho you are no longer attempting to get away, your hands still tremble on his wrist.   
His crimson pupils center on your own. And he leans forward now. Very close. Till those eyes are all you can see. He’s looking into your eyes as if you are a moderately interesting lab specimen. Your tummy blooms in raw terror. Is he going to suffocate you?  
Your airway wheezes as he finally removes his fingers. Your mouth is open and slack as you desperately breathe, gasping. You can feel trails of spit running down your flushed chin.  
And you can feel your own saliva being smeared on your neck as that hand now grasps here. It is not crushing, but it’s vice like. And the other hand maintains it’s grip on your face. And he stops moving now. Is just watching you gasp, so close that those alien eyes fill your vision.   
“A kiss, hmmm?”  
You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s grinning.   
“Why do I feel as if you are not showing me what such an action can truly accomplish?”  
Those pupils flick downwards. He’s looking at your lips.   
“Inferior frightened primate……… but I think you can give me much better than that paltry performance.”  
Those pupils return to yours.  
“Can’t you…..”  
You can’t nod. Can’t really move your neck at all with the way he’s holding you. So you gasp, your voice a croak bubbling from your tender throat.  
“I…… I think so……”  
He doesn’t wait for any further excuses. Pulls your lips to his. His eyes do not close as a human’s might. He’s watching you very closely.   
You respond immediately, your own eyes fluttering shut. You are frightened of him, yes. But the majority of the terror seething in your belly stems from your own instant animal response to him. There is no hesitation. You kiss him with fire.   
His lips remain motionless at first. Then, they begin to mimic the actions of your own. As if he’s learning very quickly.  
Your hands leave his wrist to trail your fingertips up his firm chest. Up. To drape over his shoulders, your hands cradling the back of his head. Your body presses into his and you can feel how much cooler he is than you even thru the tin material of your shirt. It’s like you’ve lost your mind and he does absolutely nothing to stop you.  
You must certainly be a sight. Sitting next to this alien, kissing the shit out of him. His hands grasping your throat and face while his pupils twinkle and dance at your own willful helplessness to his whim.   
That tail, still wrapped around your middle, begins an odd rhythmic pulsing. A slow malingering flex which begins at the base and undulates along its length. Culminating in a tightening and then loosening. It’s a repeated pressure, oddly soothing. As if his body is attempting to comfort you, although this does not translate to the ferocity in his eyes.   
He suddenly pulls his face away, your seeking lips leaving his with a tiny pop. Your eyes fluttering open again. He’s only pulled his face away tho. His body remains pressed into yours. That tail continues to pulse.   
The hand around your throat leaves this to snake the fingertips down your ribs, between your breasts, around your body. Till it’s splayed on your lower back. And he presses you even more firmly to him.   
The other hand continues to grasp your face. And he twitches his wrist, forcing your head to tilt. His own head tilts just the same, matching yours. And his dark lips, sparkling with your saliva, pull back from those perfect teeth in an atavistic snarling grin. His voice is a raspy growl.  
“Exemplary.”


	5. The Lemon Chapter

You just stare into those merciless pupils. Twin discs the color of fresh blood.   
And he’s staring at you as well. Just looking right into your own eyes. And this is not the timeless intimate look which you might desire from someone you’ve just kissed so passionately. It is the hungry languid gaze of a predator. Not as if he’s hunting you, but as if you are already slain. Amused. Relishing your helplessness before the feast.   
It’s hard to speak. His fingertips press into your cheeks and jaw movement is difficult. But you speak anyway.  
“Your……. Your leg…… I really…… I should check..”  
“I don’t think so.” He cuts you off. Still grinning. But he doesn’t continue. Just watches you breathe hard and quiver.   
“L-look. I did what you said. And I….. I said I’m s-s-"  
“S-s-sorry. Yes. I’m aware.” He’s stumbling quite purposefully. Mocking you. But his voice isn’t sniveling, nor does it have that sarcastic timbre. Just that deadly calm, once more.   
You give up. Just stare at him. Your breath eventually calming. Aligning subconsciously to that rhythmic pulsing of his tail.   
After a time, that hand, still splayed on your back, begins to trail upwards. He’s still very much pinning you him. Still pressing you in. But this movement is exploratory.   
You can feel his fingertips pressing into your skin thru your shirt. Almost examining the individual bone structures of your ribs and spine. You gasp when one presses too firmly into a tender intercostal space. Just a little inhale followed by a tiny animal sound of pain.  
“You are so very delicate, (Y/N).” That calm voice. Clinical.   
“And warm. Your body is quite warm……. Behave now.” He finally releases your face. That hand remaining splayed before you for a moment. As if waiting to clamp it’s painful grip once more, should you try to get away.   
You do not. And so this hand extends a pointer finger to, once again, trace your soft human lips. And he makes no further movements other than these. Just running his fingertips along the bones of your back. And tracing your lips.  
He’d only sat up slightly during his assault of your airway and that kiss. No human could sit in this way. Not without phenomenal core strength. Halfway between laying and sitting. Not propped on his elbows. Simply suspended like this thru muscle strength alone.   
And you are also suspended in this way. Your hands having come to rest on his shoulders after that kiss, you realize that you are literally being held in this way by his tail. And it has not ceased that pulsing.   
You notice this just as his body relaxes back onto this tiny mattress. And he pulls you with him. Literally maneuvers your body as if you weigh no more than a paper doll. That tail flexing to pull you ONTO him.   
You instinctively try to resist this action as you’re made to straddle him. As you feel the cool skin of his thighs quiver instinctively thru the thin material of your underwear. This is very intimate. Too intimate. And you cannot help but try to pull away.  
He instantly becomes motionless. Smirking at you.  
“Ah. Ah. Aaahh. Don’t struggle. This will be far less uncomfortable for you if you’re calm. At least, I assume it will be.”  
Your belly coils at this implication.  
“What…… what will be less uncomfortable?”  
“Our copulation, (Y/N).” His voice is, once again, very calm. And his face develops a look of observation very much resembling the look a scientist gives an active experiment. Curious.  
“Our…….. what…….” You feel all the blood drain from your face, swirl hotly in your belly, only to flood your cheeks once more.   
“Hhhmmmm?” This is a very bored sound. As if repeating himself is beneath him.   
“Copulation? You want to….. you want to…….. “ Your face is so close to his. That finger just continuing it’s tracing of your lips.   
“Do you not wish to be bred? You certainly smell like you do. That little slit between your legs is practically weeping for me. I can feel how wet you are.”  
You are perfectly aware of this. But hearing such filth in that calm voice only increases this awareness.  
“I uh…… you didn’t even know what a kiss was….. and yet……”  
He sneers at you now.   
“I cannot be troubled to be knowledgeable of your ridiculous mating rituals. The stench of your estrus is recognizable in any language.”  
Your face grows hot. Anger.   
“Let. Me. Go.”  
He sighs, bored once more. But, much to your surprise, both of his arms leave you to cross behind that domed purple skull. And his tail slips from your midsection to rest placidly on the cot next to him.  
“Very well. I feel as if, had I my proper memories, I might be very upset with myself at having desired you in the first place. Perhaps I should be grateful to you for sparing me this disappointment.”  
And there you are. Straddling a rude and dangerous alien being. Your face aflame with shame and anger.   
Yet, you do not move. You make absolutely no movement to remove yourself from him. And as those dark lips twitch into a knowing smirk, you cannot seem to continue being angry.  
“Will you continue this pretense of unwillingness? Although it is amusing to an extent, I still have a limb to be tended to if you are quite finished with this little farce.” His tone is derisive. And he’s grinning openly at you now.  
You should be angry. You really should.   
In response to this derision, you reach down to splay your hands on his chest. And you rotate your hips, grinding the heat between your thighs firmly against his alien groin.   
“A limb, huh?” You’d meant your own tone to be just as mocking as his own, but it just comes out as a groan.   
THIS gets a reaction from him. And it’s a very instant and satisfying one.   
His lips pull from his teeth and his chest flexes as he emits a very inhuman and serpentine hiss. It’s a beastly sound. His hands move faster than you can see. Faster than you can blink. Behind his head. Only to grasp your hips before your lids can peel away from your irises.   
And he’s practically crushing you to him. It’s almost painful how tightly he’s squeezing your cotton covered sex to his groin. It’s such a forceful and possessive gesture. So erotic that, when the tip of his tail snaps against the cot with the sound reminiscent of a gunshot, you do not even register it. Merely mewl. A quiet hungry female sound. And his voice is now raspy and angry sounding.  
“Does this amuse you? Toying with me?”  
As he says this, you can feel the flesh below your panties softening. Giving way. Only for something to prod at your slit thru the now soaking material.   
You cannot grind. He’s holding you too tightly. So instead, your hands leave his chest, grabbing the hem of your shirt to yank it carelessly over your head. Toss it just as carelessly away. Your bra quickly follows suit. Then, you reach down to place your hands over his. Pressing. His grip is already painful. So why do you want MORE?   
“Who’s toying? Fuck me.”  
Another monstrous hiss answers you. He looks so ANGRY.   
And HIS hips move now. Mimicking the movement YOU had done. He’s grinding you. His cock…… at least that’s what you THINK it is…….. presses into your slit thru the material of your panties. Rubbing and nudging the cloth into your clit as it does. And you whimper, any pretense of teasing or attitude long gone.   
“Oh…… oh please……. Please…..”  
He doesn’t grin at this as you might have expected, had you the presence of mind to expect anything at all. Just that same enraged grimace as his tail finds your midsection once more. Pulsing madly, it lifts your body a few inches from him. And he snarls at you.   
“I dare say, I must be quite adept at following orders, whoever I am.”  
Your feel a hand leave your hip. Feel his icy fingers sliding along your thigh, under the seam of your panties. Greedily pressing those onyx nails into the soft flesh of your sex, only to curl and hook into the material. And there is a slight sting along both hips. The elastic digging into your flesh as his fingers pierce and rip this garment from you.   
There is no preamble. No modicum of foreplay. No hint of decorum or naiveté. His tail drops your full weight. His cock pierces you as his hips drive up. His free hand returns to your hip and both hands bruise as he brings your body to meet his. Your thighs hit his hip bones with a loud sound.   
This is not inherently painful. You had already been very wet. Very ready for him. But the sudden fullness makes you cry out. Your head falls back. Flops obscenely as he lifts you only to wrench you back down again. You hands flail helplessly.   
He’s fucking you at a pace no human could ever hope to match. Machine like. Precise. Brutal. Selfish. Uncaring. You come in under 30 seconds, screaming like a fiend from the depths of hell. The sounds are grotesque. Just a woman being claimed and loving every second of it. Unable to think of anything. Not of the fact that this being inside you has come to kill your world. Nor your dire solitude in a forest. Nor the clattering sounds of the bandaging and splinting snapping and falling away from his healed leg. Not even your own name. In this moment, your mind is as clouded as his.   
You cannot even understand the turning of time as he works your body over in a desperate frenzy. Cannot grasp how long this is even taking nor the changing shadows on the walls of this tent as the sun moves thru the sky.  
The only thing your mind registers as his tail releases you and your cheek smacks against his own…… as your abdominal muscles fail to support you, is his nearness. He’s still thrusting as one possessed. Your lips vibrate from his hissing.   
You mewl and simply run your hands along his body. Feel the way his muscles flex and quiver at his using of you. And although you are gasping and sweaty and exhausted, his voice is a hitching raspy growl.  
“Kiss me, pretty thing.”


End file.
